I'm creating this blog in the hope that my grandson will some day find me and know that I love him.
Once upon a time, there was a little boy. He was born into a house without any brothers and sisters. He had lots of friends and his mommy and daddy took care of him the best they could. His mommy and daddy both had jobs, but they weren't very rich. They saved their money by buying their clothes on sale, and sometimes at the thrift shops so that they didn't have to spend as much. They bought food on sale, and the mommy learned how to cook good things for less money. They ate a lot of spaghetti and hot dogs because they didn't cost very much. The mommy knew how to sew, so she made clothes for the little boy when he was very little because she loved him so much.
While he was growing up, she made him a superman cape that he could turn inside-out and it became a Zorro cape. The little boy loved the cape and pretended to be Superman and Zorro all the time. One time Mommy made him some pajamas that looked like the Cubs baseball uniform. He loved the cubs, especially Andre Dawson, who was his favorite player.
The little boy's daddy love him so much that he gave him everything he wanted. If the little boy wanted "Guess?" jeans, his daddy bought them for him, even though they were very expensive and the family couldn't afford them. The daddy would try to get them on sale, but it would mean that he had to go without buying new shoes for a while. The daddy needed new shoes because he worked standing on his feet all day and his everyday shoes would get worn out and have holes in them. But the daddy didn't care because he wanted to make his son happy.
As the little boy got older, he asked for more and more expensive things. And even though they still couldn't afford it, the daddy would give them to him. The daddy would never say "no," even though the mommy thought that it would be okay to do that and teach the boy how to earn his own things so that he would appreciate them more.
When the boy was in high school, he started getting mean and angry. He wanted everything his own way and didn't want to be around his mom and dad very much. When he did something wrong, he wouldn't apologize. He blamed other people for making him mad. His mother became afraid of him. She tried to do things to make him happy, but he was still unhappy. He just couldn't see that it was his own actions that made him unhappy.
When it was time for him to go to college, his mom and dad scrimped and saved to be able to pay for his education. They got a little bit of help from the dad's parents, but they paid for most of it themselves. This was possible because they had cashed in an investment years before to pay off their house. This made it possible to pay for college. They didn't spend any money on fixing up the house or buying new clothes or taking vacations, just so they could pay for their son's college education.
When the boy was in college, he got married, but his wife got sick and they didn't get along, so there was a divorce. A few years after that, he got married again, and after a while they had a little boy.
But before the baby boy was born -- before his parents even got pregnant -- he got his feelings hurt because he did something bad and we (his parents) called him on it and told him he needed to stop before he ruined his life. So he got mad at us and called us names and told us we were bad parents and never would speak to us again. Kind of a thirty-something version of a 5-year-old tantrum. "You hurt my feelings! You weren't nice to me! I hate you!"
Well, there was a lot more to it than that, of course. But, because he was so stubborn, he turned his back on his parents and never spoke to them (us) again. We tried to mend the fence and get him to calm down and communicate, but he refused. In the meantime, he and his wife had a baby boy (and named him after grandpa--go figure!). We sent them cards and gifts, but they were all returned, unopened, along with nasty, threatening e-mails.
That was over three years ago. My grandson is now almost three years old and I've never met him. They never send us pictures (but I've gotten a few from other people). I've never touched his sweet face. I've never felt his arms around my neck.
I'm writing this blog because I don't know what his dad will tell him when he gets old enough to wonder why his other grandparents aren't there. But if he ever Googles his name, I hope he will find this blog and know that I love him, and that I would love to see him some day.
